


Fly Right Home to You

by Dogsled



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Back Seat, Barebacking, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs in a Car, But he's super cute doing it, Country & Western, Dean is a Sweetheart, Dom Castiel, Hook-Up, M/M, Sex in a Car, Singer Castiel, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 13:40:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogsled/pseuds/Dogsled
Summary: Dean is drinking alone at a bar when a low, seductive voice takes over the microphone. It's Castiel Novak, a local country singer, and he's entertaining friends and well wishers with his crooning melodies. Unfortunately for Dean, he's never heard anything so instantly intoxicating in his life as Cas' voice, which makes it hard to get up from the bar and make a quick escape.Inspired by a photo of beer Jensen pulled for the Family Business, listening to too much country music and written for the Dean/Cas Sweetheart Challenge. Happy Valentine's Day, readers!





	Fly Right Home to You

Dean rubbed his thumb against the condensation frosting the rim of his glass. Whoever had drawn his beer hadn’t the slightest clue how to do it. A few millimeters of frothy head sat on top of the glass, where really it should have been far thicker. Where was the pride in the work, the respect for the brew?

 

The other denizens of the bar didn’t seem to particularly care, though. These folks were mostly here to drink for the sake of drinking, though a cluster of people were seated up near the small stage. The ambiance of lifelong drunkards gulping down ale gave way to a restless anticipation of the upcoming entertainment. Boots shuffled and squeaked on the beaten floorboards as the patrons rearranged themselves for a better view. 

 

Dean would be relieved if the singer was even half decent. The last couple of times he’d stopped in a place like this the local talent had made him regret it. When was the polite time to leave? Was it wrong to applaud something you didn’t enjoy, and where did you draw the line? Inflicting that kind of torture on future listeners seemed like a shitty thing to do just because you felt guilty.

 

Dean adjusted himself on his barstool, watching as a dark haired man entered carrying a country guitar. It was a beautiful piece if he was pegging it right: a Taylor 322ce with a tropical mahogany finish. Classy for a backwater spot like this, but then the guy did seem to be very classy. He’d taken a seat on the stool with his toe tucked behind his ankle, drawing Dean’s attention down to the polish of his crocodile-skin boots.

 

_ Steel toed _ cowboy boots.  _ Sexy _ .

 

And speaking of sexy, so were the guy’s eyes; blue like Arizona puddles, deep and dark rimmed and heavy-lidded. Better still, his voice, when he began to speak, was a low, sensual gravel that gave life to a dozen fluttering butterflies in Dean's stomach.

 

“I’m Castiel Novak, and I wanted to share with you a little song I wrote. You let me know if it’s any good.”

 

It also happened to go straight to his cock when Castiel began to sing:

 

> _ “This old heart is all used up _
> 
> _ And it’s got me feeling down, _
> 
> _ It’s been beaten and dejected and abused. _
> 
> _ Oh the feathers of my angel wings _
> 
> _ Have started falling out, _
> 
> _ But I’ll spread them wide to fly right home to you. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ I’m an angel on the road, _
> 
> _ Yeah, I’m an angel on the run. _
> 
> _ I’m an angel that is hurting and confused. _
> 
> _ If you only said “I love you” _
> 
> _ Then despite their sorry blight, _
> 
> _ I would spread my wings and fly right home to you. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ There’s a place among the stars for us my dear _
> 
> _ But they’re feeling pretty empty _
> 
> _ Without you being here _
> 
>  
> 
> _ This angel couldn’t lift his wings _
> 
> _ Couldn’t do a single thing. _
> 
> _ It’s been twenty years since love just went away. _
> 
> _ And the feathers of his angel wings _
> 
> _ Just started falling out, _
> 
> _ Cause he knew you didn’t think of him that way _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Miles and miles and miles that I have flown. _
> 
> _ Miles and miles and miles all on my own. _
> 
> _ I’ve begun to feel your love for me is through. _
> 
> _ Oh the feathers of my angel wings _
> 
> _ Have all but fallen out, _
> 
> _ But I’d spread them wide and fly if it’s for you. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ If you only said “I love you” _
> 
> _ Then despite their sorry blight, _
> 
> _ I would spread my wings and fly right home to you. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Yeah, I would spread my wings and fly-- _
> 
> _ Right on home to you.” _

 

Dean didn’t realize the song was over until the the crowd erupted with applause, one man clapping the singer on the shoulder. A woman with red hair kissed him on the cheek, then pinched it, but since the singer was already blushing furiously, it didn’t seem to make much of a difference. 

 

Coughing, Dean turned away, pulling his knees together discreetly under the lip of the bar. His erection was surprisingly unbearable, considering all he’d done was listen to this guy sing. It was embarrassing, really, and Dean was pretty sure the best plan was to sit it out and wait for alcohol to take the edge off.

 

He definitely didn’t anticipate the set continuing for an hour. The man sang everything from Dave Matthews to Bob Seger, and a couple others that were probably original. Every song received rousing applause. At the end of his set, Dean was seriously considering a sprint to the men’s bathroom, or perhaps his car, his back still to the man on stage and his hands occasionally fisting the fabric of his jeans.

 

Even after a full hour, whiskey dick was nowhere to be seen. Worse still, Dean was starting to need to pee, which did not make a good pair with his erection. Like it or not, he was going to have to make a break for it.

 

He’d just stood up when he collided with another body. Resettling his stool after a blind panic to stay on his feet, Dean was horrified to discover that it was the singer himself who he’d smacked into. 

 

“Pardon,” the guy purred in that illegally low register. Dean found himself glowering. He had to be doing it on purpose.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Despite his efforts to act stoic, Dean felt like it all fell apart when their eyes met, the soulful blue of the singer’s gaze cutting right through him. Those blue eyes hooded, and flicked purposefully down, and Dean could swear the guy was checking out his dick, his attention at once humiliating and  _ electrifying. _ When their eyes met again, Dean saw a flicker of a smile dancing in the corner of the man’s lips.

 

“Not bad,” the singer purred.

 

Startled, and now desperately needing relief more than ever, Dean pushed his way free and headed for the men’s room, throwing himself inside the single stall and pinning the door closed with his back. He shoved his pants down to his thighs, rather than bothering to pry himself free, and pointed his cock vaguely in the direction of the toilet bowl, his erection making his efforts clumsy. It was just his luck that the stall’s lock had been broken, but by now the need to pee was overwhelming, and he staggered away from the door and did his best to wrangle his cock in the direction of the toilet bowl. Over the rush of relief and the sound of his spray - he shouldn’t have shotgunned so many beers in a row - he didn’t hear the door to the bathroom opening, or even the stall door being cracked open behind him.

 

Only when a warm body bumped against his back did Dean find himself jerking in surprise, sending the last spray of urine ricocheting off the toilet. The mess was the least of his problems though, as arms wrapped tight around him.

 

Whoever it was - and Dean could guess given their exchange - the guy was strong, holding him with a vice-like grip to his chest and keeping his head just far enough to one side that Dean couldn’t give him a fat lip in his outburst.

 

The low growl of the singer’s voice in his ear drained any hint of resistance right out of him. Hell, if it had been anyone else, he’d have broken half the bones in their arm in the the next ten seconds or so, but there was something intoxicating about Castiel Novak.

 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

 

“What are you doing? Dude, let go!”

 

He didn’t want Cas to let go, and in fact he halfheartedly curled his hands around Castiel’s wrists as though intending to prize them away, applying next to no pressure at all. There was his image to think about, though, and the fact that his heart was still racing from being ambushed in his private restroom moment in the first place.

 

“You’re not going to tell me that was a gun in your pocket now, are you?” Cas asked.

 

“I--no it was not a gun! I was--I don’t--”

 

“What, you don’t have casual sex with strangers in public restrooms?”

 

Dean didn’t quite know how to respond to that. The truth was he’d done his fair share of exactly that, but it took him a moment to calm down from abject panic mode and embrace the possibility. The sexy dude with the heartbreakingly beautiful voice...wanted to bone him. He could do that.

 

Yeah, he could  _ definitely _ do that.

 

Licking his lips, Dean moved his hands to the stall walls, exhaling a slow breath to make it clear that he wasn’t going to put up any more of a fight. At once, the other man relaxed as well, hands becoming mobile once again and working eagerly down his chest. One hand tucked up under the edge of his shirt while the other wrapped around his cock, spent now from its previous exertions. Dean still had to grimace at the mess he’d made.

 

“Castiel, right?” Dean asked, turning his head slightly toward his right shoulder and knowing he had no hope of looking at him.

 

“And you are?”

 

“Dean. I’m Dean.”

 

“Well, Dean,” Cas crooked his chin against his shoulder, peering down the length of his chest and sending prickles of sensation everywhere his eyes wandered, “I think you have a fantastic cock. I’d really like to suck it.”

 

“You… Well, I mean, be my guest…”

 

“Not yet,” Castiel crooned, tucking him back in his pants and zipping up his fly. 

 

Dean groaned, aching and confused.

 

“Come on.”

 

Castiel tugged on his belt loop, and Dean reluctantly followed, frowning as they stopped at the sink. His reflection did him every favour imaginable in the stark bathroom lighting, making sparkling blue giants out of his irises. Dean felt his knees buckle at the sexual confidence the man exuded, even as he blinked in confusion at the running faucet Castiel had turned on.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Hygiene is no joke.”

 

“You’re having sex with a guy you know nothing about and you’re worried about  _ germs _ ? I could have an STI or something--”

 

“Do you?” Castiel asked, looming over him and scrubbing soap into his hands. “I don’t.”

 

“No, but that’s not the point.”

 

“It’s good enough for me,” Castiel answered. “I’ve done more on less.”

 

Dean shook his head, barely resisting as he was pushed away from the sink and out the bathroom door. Castiel pushed him out the fire exit, then slid his arm around Dean’s waist, almost like a fond lover, guiding him back toward the parking lot.

 

“This isn’t how I expected tonight to go,” Dean admitted.

 

Castiel gave his ass a hearty slap as he lifted his hand away. “Then you weren’t dreaming big enough, cowboy.” He opened the door to a gold colored, pimped up Lincoln, and Dean finally dared to glance up at him, catching the full glare of Castiel’s intense eyes.

 

“Back seat?”

 

“If you want your blow job, then yeah.”

 

Dean definitely wanted it, so he clambered into the back of the car, propping his arm up on the passenger seat and squinted at Castiel as he got in the front and started digging in the glove box.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Getting lube. Condom?”

 

Dean shook his head. “You said you were clean. Will you just get back here?”

 

Cas finally got out and circled round the back. Cas clambered back into his personal space and Dean groaned, parting his legs around Castiel as he positioned himself. His heart beat faster by the moment. Cas didn’t hesitate to spring him out of his jeans again, wrapping his fist around the base of his cock and teasing him back to full mast.

 

“Still think it’s pretty?” Dean asked, flushing self consciously. He had such a hard time accepting that there was anything attractive about himself at moments like this, fixed underneath another person’s singular attention. It made it all so starkly real.

 

Castiel just smiled up at him. “It’s  _ gorgeous _ .”

 

Castiel dragged his thumb across the head, fisting underneath it and milking precome from the slit, and Dean had to admit that he had a point. It was damn pretty. So was Castiel’s smile as he dipped down between his thighs, soft pink lips parted wide so that Dean could watch his clever tongue poke out and tease the bead of precome away. It only made him spill that much more. Jesus, it was  _ hot _ . Screw the condom. It was something else to watch this beautiful man go down on him without anything between them: pure fucking fantasy.

 

“ _ You’re _ gorgeous,” Dean uttered, brokenly.

 

“Why thank you,” came the answer, along with a soft, secret smile. Then Castiel encompassed him in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head and practically making Dean weep with the sensation. 

 

Fisting a hand helplessly in Castiel’s shirt, Dean knocked his head back against the window, trying at once to crawl backward out of his own skin and to buck up toward the blissful heat of the other man’s mouth. It was perfect--too perfect. So incredibly  _ fucking  _ perfect…

 

Castiel pulled back, kneading his fingers delicately between Dean’s thighs and drawing a very unmasculine whimper from him. He didn’t care, it was exactly what he needed, and he was beginning to think that this guy wasn’t just an arrogant, gravel-voiced sex god but also an  _ actual _ god, blessed with the gift of prescience and knowing just when to ease off before he came too soon. 

 

“I’m not ready for you to come yet,” Cas told him firmly. “You only get to come when I say so.”

 

Dean nodded eagerly. It sounded fair, and besides, as long as Castiel was talking he wasn’t on his dick, which made it that much easier to comply with anything he asked.

 

Relief soaked his spine when Cas engulfed him again, his warm, wet mouth a perfect glove. Dean found himself sinking into the Lincoln’s beige leather seats while Castiel took him all the way down, pushing past his gag reflex with a deliberate roll of his gorgeous, multi-talented throat.

 

Dean curled his toes inside his boots, digging his heels into whatever he could, his fingers bruisingly tight across Castiel’s shoulders. But the son of a bitch just popped him back out, lathered the head with saliva and did it again, and  _ again _ , while Dean sobbed in despair. He’d never had a blow job like this in his entire life, and when Castiel started to hum, throat vibrating around the head of his cock, Dean felt like he was going to lose his mind. It had never felt this good before and it was a miracle he hadn’t come yet.

 

Cas squeezed rough fingers around the base of his cock and reminded him exactly why that was. It was  _ agony _ . Dean felt his orgasm hit but there was nowhere for it to go, and he wailed pitifully, throwing his head back again and sending sparks of light dancing behind his eyes.

 

“Fuck.  _ Fuck _ !”

 

But Castiel felt incredible when his teasing mouth wrapped around him once more, and that more than anything made the discomfort worth it. He’d settled Dean’s cock in the back of his throat and was stroking his hands upward and outward, sliding them around Dean’s hips and squeezing firmly at the globes of his ass. His pace was excruciatingly slow, but Dean didn’t mind, sinking deeper into this rollercoaster of bliss and agony, as Cas caressed his cheeks, kneading into the muscle.

 

Dean didn’t know how long it lasted. He felt himself floating off, gravity letting go as Dean spun away. He was barreling towards his orgasm and there was nothing stopping it this time.  Cas slipped off the head of his cock and began to work him intently, bobbing up and down with such determination that Dean had to grit his teeth against the pressure of it.

 

Rough, firm, and with impressive suction, Castiel  _ dragged  _ him screaming and kicking towards orgasm. It was breathtakingly brutal and Dean was pretty sure he’d never come so hard in his  _ life _ . Bringing his hands up higher to bury them in Cas’ plush hair, he felt his head move as he bobbed up and down on his cock. He managed to crack his eyes open too, and found Castiel staring up at him, intoxicatingly bright blue eyes boring into him like lasers. There was something just so out of this world about them, Dean had to wonder if this was what it was like to get a blow job from an  _ actual  _ angel.

 

Castiel was artful in the way he drew Dean right up to the edge and helped him ride it, teasing his tongue along his foreskin as Dean pulsed precome into his waiting mouth. When he did finally ejaculate, it felt like he could have flattened the town with the force of his orgasm. With a tongue against his slit, Castiel urged every single drop from him, wringing his balls taut.

 

He sank, trembling, onto the sweaty leather as Castiel swallowed his load, then vigorously and thoroughly licked him clean. When the other man finally sat up, Dean could barely move to make more room for him. He laid there with his legs wide open and his cock hanging out, just staring into Castiel’s beautifully flushed face.

 

He looked good after giving head. Dean just wished he could move so he could prove he still had it in him to fuck the life out of him. He did. He  _ totally could _ .

 

Maybe in a minute.

 

Castiel, meanwhile, was making good use of the superior width of his back seat to get Dean out of his jeans. Dean kicked his feet fretfully when Cas got to his boots. In retrospect, that didn’t make things any easier, but they did come off eventually. He groaned and sank back in relief when it was done, mostly wishing he wasn’t wearing his shirt either.

 

Cas grabbed the lube he’d snagged before, and Dean made a sound of protest, rolling his shoulders to try and sit up.

 

“What’s that for?”

 

“It’s for you.”

 

He couldn’t get it back up  _ that _ fast. “You gonna ride me?”

 

“Not really what I had in mind.”

 

Dean caught his bottom lip under his teeth, worrying it nervously as Cas slicked up his fingers. It was swiftly moving past the appropriate moment to protest, particularly when Castiel spidered his fingers between Dean’s thighs and stroked a wet trail upward. His cock twitched and that was answer enough for him: Dean was going to take it up the ass tonight.

 

So when Castiel teased his fingers over his puckered entrance, Dean was more than happy to cooperate, spreading his legs wider, trembling already as Cas nudged a single digit inside.

 

“You’re really enjoying this,” Castiel pointed out, amused. “Let me guess, you’ve still got one foot in the closet, right?”

 

Dean twitched his chin away. Had he been that obvious? He didn’t feel like it, and yet perhaps there was hesitance in the way he acted around Cas, his attraction to him. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t do shy well. He was all bluster when he knew what he was doing, but Dean had never been one to take  _ these _ kinds of risks, to put his feelings on the line with something that his upbringing had taught him was seven kinds of wrong. One blow job and it was like this guy knew him, though. He couldn’t help but feel ashamed by that. He also couldn’t help but feel like he’d accidentally put a bumper sticker on his car that said “I fuck dudes but I’m disgusted by it.”

 

“It’s okay,” Castiel pressed, as he urged his finger deeper. “I totally get it. I’ve been there--I was right in your shoes for a long time. But honestly, Dean, if you enjoy having sex with men this much, it really is a tragedy to deny it to yourself.”

 

Dean bit down on the sound that he’d almost made, ashamed of that too, but he had to admit that Castiel had a point. He loved sex with men. It was raw, and vital, and other men seemed to know their way around his body far better than any woman ever had. Not that there was anything wrong with women, of course, Dean loved sex with women too, but he had always deprived himself of this out of shame.

 

Giving into it was something else, and giving into it with Castiel, who had already proven just how good he was in the sack with that blow job… Well, he was expecting to have his mind totally blown.

 

Castiel pushed a second finger in beside the first, and as he did so he crawled closer, looming over Dean. His left shoulder dipped as he reached between his own legs, the movement finally urging Dean’s attention down. Past his own half hard cock, Dean was able to see Castiel’s wrist as he fingered him, but it was the erotic curl of Cas’ own dick, finally exposed to the open air, that instantly had Dean holding his breath. 

 

It was gorgeous, and it was  _ huge. _

 

“You didn’t tell me you were packing a monster.”

 

So far, the most Cas had done in terms of laughter was chuckle in his ear. When he laughed at Dean’s compliment, though, it was like angels singing; something so damn beautiful that his human ears didn’t deserve to hear it.

 

“Don’t think you can take all of it?” Cas teased as he stroked himself. Cas was getting off on Dean watching, he realized, and yet that suited Dean just fine. He would have been happy to just sit there and watch Castiel pleasure himself if that was all he wanted to do.

 

“Sweetheart, I can take it anyway you wanna give it to me,” Dean said ambitiously, curling his tongue around the challenge of it. The truth was that the last guy who’d fucked him, Alastair, had done it behind a truck stop in Georgia and he had been anything but gentle. Compared to that, Dean wasn’t at all afraid that Castiel would hurt him.

 

“I’ll make it good for you,” Cas promised, almost as though he could feel Dean’s trepidation. Dean nodded. He knew. It was damn obvious that despite his confidence, the dominant persona that he was projecting, Castiel was a desperately caring lover at heart.

 

“Come on then,” Dean urged, curling his hand around Castiel’s wrist and pulling. “I want to feel you.”

 

As Cas let go, Dean took his turn, wrapping his own hand around the base of the other man’s cock and stroking upward. It took a moment to orientate himself to the mirror image, but Castiel didn’t seem to particularly mind his uncertainty, throwing his arm out to grab the shoulder of the front seat and twitching his hips up toward Dean’s fist.

 

Dean licked his lips, chuckling, feeling the tension in his shoulders beginning to dissipate. “That’s it. There, you’re not so scary.”

 

“I was scary?”

 

“Little bit.” Dean smiled at Cas’ open mouthed panting pout. “Good scary.  _ Sexy _ scary.”

 

“Sexy scary?”

 

“Like a stripper zombie on Halloween.”

 

Castiel seemed to consider that seriously for a moment, pressing his mouth into a fine line. Dean felt scrutinized, like he was on the verge of failing some test he hadn’t known about, but the moment passed, and Cas crammed a third finger inside him while Dean’s guard was down.

 

He cursed again, inadvertently giving Cas’ cock a particularly vicious squeeze.

 

“D-Dean! If you can’t be gentle, I’m going to have to spank you.”

 

Dean grimaced. The stretch was beginning to make it hard to focus. “You wanna talk to me about being gentle? What you did to my balls wasn’t  _ gentle _ .”

 

Castiel had the audacity to flush, and Dean’s tension broke abruptly into a grin. It was  _ adorable.  _ For all his tough act, Cas was just so beautifully soft. Dean teased his fingers over the head of Cas’ cock, stroking his thumb through the slick of his precome, smiling in anticipation.

 

“It’s okay,” Dean urged, as Castiel twisted his wrist inside him. “I can take it.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Not like I’m planning to go ice dancing tomorrow.” He lifted his hand away, reaching for a grip on the seat instead. “Give it to me, Cas. I can take it.”

 

Castiel stilled his hand. “Did you just call me  _ Cas _ ?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean groaned. “What, you don’t like it?”

 

“I didn’t say that,” Castiel answered, but he took his hand away anyway, and Dean found himself gasping at the sudden loss, the emptiness inside him.

 

“O-oh…”

 

“You can call me Cas,” he purred, “But it’s going to cost you.”

 

“That right?”

 

“It will. If you do it again.”

 

It sounded like a challenge. Dean rolled his eyes. “Come on, then. Come on,  _ Cas _ . Fuck me.”

 

Who named their kid “Castiel” anyway? Maybe someone who thought their kid was blessed by angels because he was born with an enormous--

 

“ _ Fuck. _ ”

 

Cas nudged the head of his cock inside but he didn’t  _ stop  _ after that. Dean could feel the rapidly warming lube easing his progress as Cas pressed in deeper. He was stretched so wide and it  _ ached _ . Dean had to grit his teeth to endure it but he was determined to get through the strain. Eventually though, it drew a shaky groan out of him, and it was too much--way too much. Dean couldn’t hold back the noises any more, couldn’t keep himself from hissing in staggered breaths through his teeth as he tried to adjust, couldn’t  _ stop watching _ because it was just incredible to watch the glorious width of Cas’ beautiful cock as it was crammed inside him.

 

For a terrible second Dean wanted it to stop, wanted to tell Castiel to give it up, or at least stay still for a second and let him adjust, but the other man didn’t seem willing to give him the chance to protest. As soon as he was inside he was pulling out again, only to shove back, physically jarring Dean back against the corner of the seat and knocking his head against the window.

 

It was overwhelming. Dean bore down on a sob that wanted to tear out of him as all the while Castiel kept going, a steam engine of determination, pounding him back every time Dean thought he might have a small reprieve.

 

“How’s that feel? Good?”

 

Dean nodded mutely, not trusting himself not to make a ridiculous sound if he so much as opened his mouth, though to be fair he was already making enough “Mmm” noises for them to be ridiculous all on their own. Cas only laughed, though, and pushed in closer, curling Dean’s body underneath him so that he could hammer in that much deeper. The new position sparked a fire like a welding arc inside him, hot fireflies of pleasure dancing through his nerves as Castiel fiercely ground against his prostate.

 

Gradually, the pain began to dissolve, and with the fresh weight of pleasure low in his belly, Dean gave up on his efforts to stay even vaguely quiet, bellowing a helpless moan and begging out loud for Castiel to touch him, fuck him, do whatever he wanted to him so long as he  _ didn’t stop. _

 

Cooperatively, Cas wrapped his fist around his cock, pumping in time with the snap of his hips, already clearly struggling to maintain coordination. Dean could have taken over for him, but he was too busy holding onto the car in order not to slip through it, through leather and metal, or maybe fall off the earth entirely; it felt like his grip on reality was just that tenuous.

 

When Castiel pressed his open mouth to Dean’s throat in what would probably have been a kiss if he wasn’t gasping for air at the same time, Dean took a chance and threw one of his arms around the other man’s neck instead, and immediately everything took on a completely different quality. He wasn’t just getting fucked in the back of a stranger’s car--this was intimate and personal. Two bodies, both wearing far too many clothes, moving together as one; the slip slide of the lube and the sweet smell of sex between them; the tug of Castiel’s swollen cock tugging against his stretched rim before he filled him up with electric friction all over again; and more than anything else, the shifting color of Castiel’s blue eyes as pleasure blew his pupils wide, eclipsing his irises into sparking circles of blue crystal when he came.

 

Those beautiful eyes fell shut, but Dean was already curling forward, looking between them at his own cockhead, squeezed tight in Cas’ fist, at the cock still disappearing into him as Castiel jerked to completion, shootinghis come inside him with every desperate hitch of his hips. It was the sight of Cas coming that drove Dean over the edge, twisting his face away as his own come roped toward him, the first splash landing wetly on his neck.

 

“Cas… Oh God,  _ Castiel _ . Fuck.”

 

Dean whimpered as he came down from the high of his orgasm, kneading at the back of Cas’ neck and tugging at his hair, regretting the fact that he had to pull out. He  _ whined  _ when Cas did tug free, wet cock slipping against wetter thighs, but Dean didn’t care anymore, inconsiderate of the noises he was making. They’d gone way beyond humiliation considering the mess they’d made, the frenzy of their passionate coupling.

 

Castiel pressed his mouth to Dean’s, winding one leg around his so that they could just about fit on the seat together. The kiss lingered just a little too long, leaving Dean breathless again when they broke apart, but Castiel’s face was shining with glowing admiration, and Dean found himself smiling back up at him despite himself.

 

“”What is it?” he asked.

 

“You called me Cas when you came.”

 

“Did not.”

 

“You did. You know what this means, don’t you?”

 

Dean shook his head, mystified. He couldn’t remember saying anything, but he supposed he could have. Probably did, actually, just to wind the guy up. Either way, Castiel had ducked his head and was lapping up the semen from Dean’s throat, and it was so thoroughly distracting, so dirty and yet so affectionate, that Dean stopped caring about whether or not he’d said what Cas claimed he had.

 

“What does it mean?” he rumbled quietly, not really wanting to distract Castiel’s marvellous tongue from what it was doing, or the teeth grazing counter to the grain of his stubble.

 

Fortunately Castiel took to nibbling at his ear before he answered, which was even better. “It means you owe me a date.”

 

Dean groaned. “Isn’t that supposed to come  _ before _ the mind-blowing sex?”

 

“Honestly? I’ve never been the conventional type.We could always skip straight to marriage. I know a chapel…”

 

“Dude,” Dean huffed a laugh, “If you promise we can do this again, I’ll go on as many dates as you want, but save it on the marriage talk.”

 

His proclamation sounded suspiciously like dating to Dean. Not bad for a guy with one foot still in the closet, right? He shifted slightly on the seat, positioning himself so he could get his other arm free and brushed his thumb over Castiel’s ear, catching his attention earnestly.

 

“What about your wings?” he asked Cas was sitting up and looking right back at him. “You sure they can take it?”

 

Castiel seemed puzzled, and then understanding dawned in his expression. “You were listening to that?”

 

“Of course I was listening. Dude, you even  _ sing _ like an angel,” Dean protested stubbornly. “So...can they really take it? Cause if we start dating you’re gonna fall in love with me.”

 

“Well that depends on you, doesn’t it?” Castiel asked, smiling sadly down at him. “Are you going to keep me hanging, or will you tell me that you love me too?”

 

Dean smiled. For the first time in his life, he could maybe see the answer being ‘yes.’

  
  
  


_ Fin _

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by the incredible, inventive and mostly the best beta reader ever Traveling Riverside Dean (http://traveling-riverside-dean.tumblr.com/)
> 
> The song is an original piece. If you're interested in more of my poetry, or anything else for that matter, follow me on Wordpress (http://fandomthinking.wordpress.com) or Tumblr (http://thedogsled.tumblr.com)


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